


Home

by tarysande



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarysande/pseuds/tarysande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though she's in charge of the scheduling, it is very important to Aveline she not be seen playing favorites.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dragon Age Kiss Battle, here: http://owlmoose.dreamwidth.org/580315.html  
> Prompt: Aveline/Donnic

Though she's in charge of the scheduling, it is very important to Aveline she not be seen playing favorites. It would be easy, so easy, to arrange things to her liking, to make certain she and Donnic always have their evenings or mornings or afternoons off together. It would be easy, but it wouldn't be fair.  
  
She's surprised, then, when she comes home from one of Hawke's outings--and Maker, sometimes she wishes she didn't spend so many of her days off tromping around at Hawke's side, no matter how good the work they're doing--to find Donnic in the kitchen, up to his elbows in flour. Whatever expression she wears, it's enough to make him raise his hands in surrender, though this only serves to send up a cloud of flour, dusting him from head to toe.  
  
"I switched with Brennan," he says, before she can admonish him. "All above board. You'd have approved if it had been anyone else."  
  
He's not wrong; letting the guards have a small amount of control over these things does raise morale. Sighing, she concedes the point, shrugging out of the straps holding her shield to her back even as she loosens her sword-belt.  
  
"What was it today?" he asks. "Blood mages? Slavers? Assassins from beyond the sea?"  
  
"Six of one, half dozen of the other," Aveline replies wearily. When she turns back to face him, having propped her weapons and armor on the stand near the door, she finds him near, and smiling at her. Her own lips pull into an echoing expression. "You're not actually cooking, are you?"  
  
"No risk too great to see my wife smile."  
  
"If you'll recall,  _eating_  the food you cook is the real risk."  
  
Cupping her cheek in his floury hand, he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "It's only cookies. It won't be like the stew. Or the pie."  
  
"Or that Maker-forsaken cake?"  
  
He winces. "To be fair, I did learn my lesson about carefully measuring quantities after that one."  
  
Winding her strong arms around his neck, heedless of the flour his hands leave in their wake as they card through her hair, she kisses him again. Less softly. With more insistence. She may not arrange things to her benefit, but Maker she loves it when things sort themselves out. Kissing Donnic, here, in their warm kitchen, covered in flour, is Aveline's very definition of the word  _home_ . "Can the baking wait?"  
  
"For you, always," he whispers. "Though in this case I won't be held responsible for any adverse effect on edibility."


End file.
